Just a Spoonful of Sugar.....

One of the things Ellen and I did while waiting for the vet the other day was to deworm the piggies – a process in which one must get vile-tasting Ivomec (ivomectin) into twelve piggies without any of them getting missed, spitting it out, or getting double dosed.

We have it down to a fine art. Well, to be honest, I have to give Ellen all the credit for developing the perfect, foolproof method. All I really do is stand around and take pictures.

We developed this method by trial and error – having tried numerous ways of masking the Ivomec and administering it smoothly. There’s not much a pig will refuse to eat, but Ivomec is so vile that spitting it out was par for the course on our first attempt a year or more ago. It must be the Buckley’s of potbelly pig remedies.

So, as with Martin’s geld, we gather the tools of the trade:

1. twelve very heavily iced mini cupcakes, each in a paper wrapper
2. Ivomec
3. a hypodermic needle (it helps to have friends in the health care industry)
4. a can of livestock paint
5. a carton of fresh strawberries.
6. a cookie sheet

We put the dogs in the house to ensure their safety (a very high percentage of collie breeds have a fatal allergic reaction to ivomectin, and all four of mine are in the breeds-at-risk.)

Out at the picnic table, we put the cupcakes on the cookie sheet, and then injected the correct dosage into each cupcake. The paper wrapper keeps it from seeping out the bottom, as long as one works fairly efficiently and is careful not to pierce it with the needle.

Filling the cupcakes

Then we go over to the fence and call the piggies. They line up and through the wires Ellen starts popping cupcakes into piggies mouths as I direct traffic and name each recipient.

Pigs to the left......

...and pigs to the right

The process begins

Yum!

Me too, please?

Waiting his turn

Meanwhile, I keep the others from swarming her or trying to steal the “treat” by stuffing strawberries into their mouths:

Strawberry chasers

There are, of course, always those that don’t understand the concept of “lining up” or that are just too sneaky for words – grabbing their treat at the start of the line, darting around back of the others and pushing into the middle of the line, then darting around again to finish up at the end of the line. These guys are just too smart for their own good!

Me! Me! Me!

I want more!

Pwease may I have some?

Maybe if I look super cute?????

And so we not only do it assembly-line fashion but also by name. We do the most easily identified piggies first: Scotch and Soda, the parents; Derby and Rickey, who each have a white blaze on their forehead; Whisper and RobRoy who each have white feet but no blaze; Toddy of the white tail; Tom the biggest pigster; Lizzie, the only female pigster. That leaves three all-black piggies of roughly the same size, Fizzy, Spritzer and Swizzle. For that, I go inside the pigyard with the can of livestock paint, planning to identify them with a splash of red as they get their treat.

Of course, the best laid plans………they know I am their Chief Food Servant and so they turn away from the fence and swarm me, looking for more treats. Sorry guys!

Ellen joins me in the yard and we quickly administer the last three cupcakes, accompanied by a dose of red paint on the behind, while being mobbed by the rest of the poor starving babies who have quickly forgotten that they have already had their share.

We go back out of their yard before they start climbing up our legs and knocking us to the muddy ground as hungry piggies are wont to do. We grab the rest of the strawberries, and feed them some more of this high-value treat just in case any have noticed the lingering taste of vile medicine - not that I think a single pig tasted the cupcake before swallowing the yummy super-sweet gooey iced but medicated treat. But deworming has to be repeated in 10-12 days, so we don’t want any negative memories attaching themselves to today’s experience.

(Check out the front trotters on this one!)

Strawberries soon erase any unpleasantness. I swear if you let those piggies loose on a hundred acre strawberry farm, they would have the whole place stripped bare in 30 minutes and still be looking for more.

Ellen dispenses the rest of the berries

Half an hour later they are all snoozing happily in the sun:

Anyone wanna shoot some hoops?

And that's how you deworm a dozen hungry pigs.

Martin's Big Snip - Part Three

Heading down the trail

Martin's Big Snip: The Recovery

Saturday: I was up at the crack of dawn to check on my patient. Martin was still sitting in exactly the same spot as the night before – out in the open area of the pen, staring at the gate to the pasture. There was a heavy frost on the ground and on his fleece, but he seemed content enough so I let him be. The light on the eastern horizon gave promise to a beautiful day, and the bells of the nearby Westminster Abbey pealed through the air, calling all monks and farmers to rise from their beds.

Martin at dawn

I returned to the house for that wonderful first cup of coffee (why is it that the first cup always tastes soooo much better than any cups drunk later in the day???), and to give Sadie her thyroid meds. By the time I was awake, showered and dressed and had fed the dogs, the sun was above the horizon and the sky a clear, clear blue.

I fed the pigs and then proceeded, as I always do, to offer Martin his grains and sliced apple and greens. As I entered his pen, I noted he had recently stood up to eliminate his rabbit-like poops in his usual spot, and had resettled himself near the gate. I put his grains in the usual bowl in the shelter, but I scattered the apple and lettuce bits around the pen hoping to encourage him to move about a bit. Movement, the vet had told me, will help reduce the swelling and hasten his recovery.

I took the dogs for their run in the pasture, and then returned to check on Martin. He was standing at his gate - grain, hay, water and apple bits untouched. Time to let him out – I opened the gate and he immediately strutted past me and up the path.

Freedom at last

No sign of blood or infection on his back end; the only indicator anything was amiss was his tendency to walk as if he had just dismounted from a long trip on a horse. I made a note to keep an eye on that – it should disappear quickly according to the vet; if not, a call back is in order.

He moseyed up the trail to his usual spot, took a pee in one of his pasture bathrooms (alpacas are very clean – they choose one or two places to do all their business), wandered over to the fence to see if the llamas next door were out yet (they weren’t), and then settled down in one of his favourites spots – smack in the middle of the pasture trail, where he can keep an eye on both the back door of the house and on his llama friends’ shelter.

Keeping watch on a frosty morning

An hour later, when his friends came out and moved to their back pasture, he also moved himself back to our adjacent field, where he lay down to sun himself on the hillside, no doubt wondering why his rear is so sore.

Soaking up the healing rays of the sun

Hanging with friends

Throughout the day, I strolled back to the pasture to check on him. His llama friends were literally hanging over the fence, and at one point did the strangest thing – they both turned their backs on him, lifted their tails, and….MOONED him! Or maybe it was me they were mooning. Who knows. I was so astonished it took me a few moments to focus the camera, so I only caught the tail end of it (pun intended!).

Mooning Martin

At dusk, I tried enticing him back down to the shelter for his evening grains, but he was having none of it. His llama friends were still keeping him company, and he was moving around grazing on the tender spring grass. He often likes to “camp out” in good weather, so I respected his wishes and let him be. I hoped he would return to the pen for the morning feed as my dogs were a little miffed at missing their romp in the pasture tonight. Sorry guys – on the days you were fixed, I spoiled you a little too.

Sunday:

At dawn, I see Martin still at the back of the pasture but standing keeping watch on the house. By the time I have fed the dogs and the pigs, he has made his way down to his pen, where he is impatiently awaiting the morning feed. He trots over to the shelter right behind me, and immediately starts munching the soft green hay. Surprisingly, he leaves the grains and fresh apple slices untouched, but he does have a big drink of water. He shows no concern when I close the gate to the pen in order to give the dogs free run of the fields. The dogs and I spend some time exploring the fields, noting the emergence of skunk cabbage along the creek, and the pointy shoots of new bamboo just beginning to poke up through the ground on the hillside.

Skunk cabbage along the creek

When we return, Martin is still in his shelter, contentedly munching hay from his manger. He shows no sign of pain or tenderness or any problematic discharge (the incisions are left partially open so they can drain naturally should any infection occur – one just has to watch for copious amounts of blood or pus that might indicate a problem). He now walks and stands without the cowboy (cowpaca?) bow legs that were evident yesterday morning. For all intents and purposes, he appears back to normal.

Once the dogs are safely back in the yard, I open the gate to his pen to allow him back into the pasture. He spends much of the morning just outside his pen, and occasionally wanders back in for a mouthful of grain or a slurp of water. Eventually he goes back to the far end of the pasture and once again hangs across the fence from his llama pals. I check on him several times, and he is moving about and once again master of all he surveys:

King of the hill

When I feed the pigs at six o’clock, he comes trotting back down for his evening grains, and makes no complaint when I shut him in his pen for the night. He is back into the routine and feeling fine.

G'night, Mom!

It was a beautiful sunny day again, and I fully enjoyed the sense of relief that both this task and the winter are behind me. Life is good.

Martin's Big Snip - Part Two

Vets checking Martin pre-sedation

Martin's Big Snip: The Surgery

Haltering completed, Ellen and I tried to keep ourselves busy as we began the long wait for the vet. We had been told only that he would be here sometime in the afternoon, and so we made sure we had Martin haltered and safely confined to his stall before noon. And then we waited.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

We made good use of the time, delivering dewormer to the piggies (the subject for another post!), removing some of the bamboo canes that threaten to take over the pigyard, emptying and dismantling a compost box that I want to take with me to my new home, playing with the dogs, and downing multiple cups of coffee. We were both dying for a beer, but decided it probably would not be a good idea to reek of booze (much less be drunk) when the vet arrived.

At four o’clock the vet’s office phoned – he was on his way and would be here within the half hour. At five o’clock a car finally pulled into the driveway, followed by another - both vets had arrived, the alpaca guy with a broken finger necessitating an extra pair of hands.

[I want to say here that AgWest Veterinary Services are THE BEST! They were professional from beginning to end, compassionate and gentle with Martin, skilled in their practice, and clear with their instructions. And to top it off, the bill was considerably less (even with the homevisit, the foot trim, the vaccines, and the dental inspection added in) than what I paid the last time I sponsored a rescue dog's neuter.]

The vets decide the back yard is a good place to do the geld – soft, reasonably dry grass and good light. I gather the leash and lead Martin out, where we again use the boards-with-bracket-handles to slowly move Martin against the fence until he cushes, allowing the vet to sink the sedative needle into his butt.

OOOOOOhhhhhh – Martin does NOT like that! He jerks and kicks and manages to make the needle go flying out of the vet’s hand before it can release its load.

We hold him firmly but gently to the fence with the board, sooth him, and then stick him again – this time successfully. Unfortunately, ten minutes later Martin still shows no sign of drowsiness and is just waiting for an opportunity to break free.

So in goes another needleful of sedative. Finally he begins to relax, and the vet brings out the big guns – the large needle of anesthetic to be delivered right into the jugular.

Martin was quite sure he did not want to go to sleep, but slowly his head started to droop lower.....and lower.....and lower..... like an old man nodding off in front of the television.

You are getting sleeeeeppppyyyyyy

And finally he gave in to the overwhelming urge to sleep, dropping to his knees and then stretching out frog-legged on the grass.

Martin the frog

Gently and respectfully, the vets move him over onto his side and check his vitals.
A local injection just to ensure the testicles are numb, a good scrub of the hind quarters and surgical site, a few snips and the removal of a few worm-like pieces, a stitch here and a stitch there, and the possibility of baby Martins is forever removed.

The Big Snip

While he is drifting in la-la-land, I take the opportunity to get some really close up pictures of his soft, beautiful ears, nose and eyes:

Meanwhile, the other vet has moved around to Martin’s feet and begins the pedicure to get his excessively long nails back to the length they should be.

Some polish too, please?

The vets then examine the teeth to see if they need to be filed down. They look "not bad" and we decide to forgo any further work as Martin is already showing distinct signs of coming out of the light anesthetic. The vets quickly give him his Tasvax shot (which includes tetanus, a real threat for alpacas), and within a few minutes Martin is standing up and walking around.

They hand me the leash and say I can put him back in his pen – easier said than done. He follows me through the pasture gate to the pen gate and then stops dead. Ellen and I do a little comedy routine with one at the head and one at the rear or side to convince our mule-paca to move, and eventually we get him safely into the pen. He is not impressed.

Martin in his pen, 10 minutes after surgery

The vets give me instructions about his diet and activity for the next 24 hours, and we talk about signs of post-surgical problems I should watch for. Then they head on home, and Martin lies down in his pen (though not in the shelter) and tries to ignore us. I take him fresh water, remove the temporary gate from the shelter, and leave him to begin his recovery.

I'm not talking to you!

We let out the dogs, who immediately check out the exact spot of the surgery despite the vets' meticulously clean and tidy procedure that left not a visible sign on the grass.

Hmmmm......what's happened here?????

And Ellen and I dash to the fridge for that long-awaited icy cold dark German beer.

Stay tuned for part three – The Recovery.

Martin's Big Snip - Part One

MAMA! WHERE ARE MY MAN PARTS????!!!!!

I have decided to break the story of Martin's Big Snip into two or three parts. While I recognize that most of my readers probably don't need or even want all the details, I know that a fair number of hits on my blog are the result of people googling for information. As it is my hope that this blog is not only entertaining but also serves an educational purpose, I want to document the process of gelding an untamed alpaca from the perspective of this "never-thought-I'd-be-doing-this" animal lover.

And so, here is part one.

Martin's Big Snip: The Haltering

It is difficult to see someone you care about be confused and frightened by an action you have chosen to take. I was mentally willing Martin to understand that withholding food and water from him, that backing him into a corner and putting a halter on him, that having strangers stick a needle in his butt and do unspeakable things to him, were all for his own good.

The day started, thankfully, without rain or snow. Martin was upset before I even said good morning, as I had removed the hay from his pen the night before. When I entered the pen without his morning grains or apple and then took away his water, he became agitated. Pacing his pen, twisting his neck around, looking at me with what can only be described as a look of astonishment (“Mom!!!! Where’s my BREAKFAST????!!) tugged at my heartstrings. Poor boy.

I fed the pigs. After feeding them their grains and produce, I always put some hay down the bottom of their yard to persuade them to go for a morning constitutional instead of pooping in the barn and going back to bed. Their hay spot is, unfortunately, right within Martin’s line of sight. His confusion was palpable – he paced, he watched them, he stuck out his neck, he peered over the fence that separates his pen from theirs. I do believe I heard him say something like “Pssst, hey, you, little grey thing, bring me some of that, wouldya?”

And he talked.

Alpacas have almost as great a range of vocalizations as piggies. He hummed, he clicked, he mewed, he grunted. I talked back to him – I hummed, I clicked, I soothed, keeping my voice level and conversational in an attempt to keep the worry from it.

And then I began the work of preparing for his big snip.

I removed a gate from a part of the piggy yard where it is no longer needed (the little pen used to protect the piglets when they were wee enough for an eagle to carry off) and fastened it to Martin’s shelter so the three-sided structure could be converted to a closed stall to contain him once haltered. No point freaking him out and chasing him around the pen with boards to back him into a corner more than once in the day.

I gathered the tools of the trade for haltering a not-very-tame alpaca:

1. two quarter-sheets of plywood to which I attached shelving brackets to be used as handles – easy to hold onto the boards and to move them in any direction;

2. one soft, stretchy, fluffy pink sock to be slipped over his mouth in case he felt the urge to spit – much rather the spit end up in the sock than in my eye;

3. pretty purple halter with leash attached; and

4. a good friend (thanks, Ellen!) and a good neighbour(thanks, Sherri!).

The tools of the trade (minus people)

One of my many character flaws is that I procrastinate when I am facing a task that I do not feel comfortable with – where I lack the requisite knowledge or experience, or simply the confidence that I can accomplish it at all. So I have put off and put off gelding Martin because the process of cornering him and getting a halter on his face was just too daunting. I saw the job the two experienced shearers and an experienced neighbour had when he was sheared summer before last – even these experienced handlers got a stream of ugly stinking yellow spit right in the face. But……when a task doesn’t disappear, it eventually has to be done, and at that point I can usually step up to the plate and handle it with a certain amount of aplomb. I’m not generally one to panic or stress out – I am pretty good at detaching my emotions and getting on with a task when push comes to shove.

And so, shoving my dread to one side, we entered the pen. The newly attached gate to his little shelter was wide open, but conveniently fastened in such a way as to prevent him making a dash for freedom into the larger part of the pen once we got him heading in the right direction. My two assistants were holding the boards protectively in front of them, as much to protect their knees from a wicked kick as to herd and corner Martin for me.

And so we got to work. And as is so often the case, the dreaded deed turned out to be very straight forward and simple. He moved quickly into the shelter, we closed the new gate, Ellen and I slipped through to join him in the shelter, using one of the boards to back him against the wall so he would “cush” - sink down to his knees as alpacas do when trapped. At the first opportunity, I used the trick which Martin’s soon-to-be new mama taught me (thanks, Judy!) – slipping a sock over his mouth and nose to collect any spit. It was easy, he didn’t panic, and I wish I had a picture of his long pink trunk. I had created a new designer breed: an elepaca! Or is that an alphant??

Sock in place, I slipped on the halter, got it firmly buckled, and quickly removed myself from the pen, holding the leash in one hand and pulling off the sock as I left. Martin stood up and calmly looked out the new gate on his stall as if nothing had ever happened.

Martin in his "stall"

Handsome haltered Martin

We switched the shorter leash for a longline, which we then looped up over a post, making sure Martin had enough length to move about the stall and to lie down, but not enough to get tangled up. When the vets arrived, we would simply need to gather the leash and guide him out to the pasture for the dastardly deed.

Phase one of “Martin’s Big Snip” was complete. Stay tuned for part two.

Oh What a Day!

It was a great day! The sun shone, the animals cooperated, the piggies were dewormed, the bamboo was cleared, the Lee Valley compost box was dismantled for moving to the new place, the vets were wonderful, the beer was cold, the food was tasty, and Martin was an absolute gem and is recovering well from the Big Snip.
I took a ton of photos and have stories to tell.....but truth be told, I am absolutely exhausted so you shall all have to wait until tomorrow.
It was a great, great day!

The World at Eight

Everybody please chant together: SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN......

There is no way Martin's pen will be dry for his surgery tomorrow unless the sun comes out today and returns again tomorrow.

I'm off to scrub up the garage as best I can, in hopes that the vet is willing to do it there instead. Not the best alternative (cold hard concrete floor and poor light) but not as dusty as the barn (and not inhabited by twelve piggies).

Will spring ever come?

All I can say is.........

WHAT THE H*LL IS THIS WHITE STUFF???????

(I'll give you a hint: It's NOT dandruff!)








I think Belle has the right idea:



Unfortunately a nap is NOT on my agenda. I have to go to work, and then come home to clean the garage tonight in case we need to turn it into an operating theatre for Martin's big snip on Friday. The vet prefers to do it outside, but somehow I don't think muddy pasture and/or fluffy white stuff are what he had in mind.

Swamped, swamped, swamped......only one more week of classes after tomorrow!